


merlin porn mini-fic collection

by tsunderestorm



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: A collection of smutty mini fics. Multi pairing; chapters are labeled with the pairing and the kink or trope.





	1. Lancelot/Merlin

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a text post meme on tumblr that said "Ye Olde Sex Shows" and honestly I think that's accurate for this ficlet collection and maybe Merlin in general
> 
> Basically, I wanted to write porn so my girlfriend gave me some pairings and prompts to get me started.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot/Merlin; sensory deprivation

“Don’t watch, don’t think,” Merlin whispers as he summons a handkerchief with a flick of his wrist, “just feel.” The order is murmured against Lancelot’s ear as the fabric tightens, a soft weight over his closed eyes, and then Merlin is gone, leaving him alone at the edge of the bed but then he’s _there_ , pulling the laces of his pants gently apart, pushing the fabric until he can draw out his cock, hard and aching and _gods_ , so sensitive because Merlin is everywhere all at once, hands and mouth and skin on skin and Lancelot forgets himself. Unfocused, unbridled, astonished that a simple blindfold can change things this much. As a warrior, he knows weakening one sense heightens the others. As a lover, he’d never considered it, shame on him. His hand gropes blindly in the dark until it finds Merlin’s thin shoulder, his neck, the smooth skin of his cheek and his hair, soft black strands that slip through his fingers as he tries to get a good grip, to guide the bob of Merlin’s sweet hot mouth on him.

He can’t truly see, though the blindfold may as well be useless – Merlin’s image is burned into his brain, white hot. The easy spread of his skinny legs as he kneels before him, the arch of his neck without his kerchief, the way his full lips look spread shiny wet around his cock. Without his sight, though, he’s operating solely on feeling, trying to process everything and where Merlin will touch next is a surprise: a hand spread across his chest is a lead-in to the delightful curl of his fingers as he tweaks a nipple, the barest brush over taut stomach becomes a greedy grip as he pulls him closer, fingers ghosting on his sensitive balls heavy between his legs when he hadn’t expected it. Each time it’s more, damn near unbearable, so good that Merlin’s touch almost burns and he wants nothing more than to feel the fire.

 _Please_ he thinks, _let me watch_ ; a silent plea, begging to see Merlin’s pretty face when he spills down his throat. It’s not what Merlin wanted, he knows, and a part of him feels guilty for that but the blindfold is pulled from his eyes in a cool rush of air. He feels the brush of magic across his temples, flitting over his lips like a kiss as it vanishes and dragging his attention back to Merlin, nestled between his legs like a devoted supplicant: cheeks hollowed around his cock, the gleaming warm gold vanishing from his eyes until they are crystalline blue once more.

“Beautiful,” Lancelot says as he leans to caress his fingers down Merlin’s cheek, tips his face up and Merlin sucks softly, sweetly, flattens his tongue over the vein on the underside. He’s smiling, the little nymph, at least as much as he can with a mouthful of cock and Lancelot almost wishes he was still blindfolded, almost wishes he was spared the sight between his legs because it’s all going to be over embarrassingly fast, now.

Merlin works him over like a man dying of thirst, hands on the insides of his thighs as he sucks him until there’s nothing left to give, until he can swirl his tongue around the head, dip his tongue into the slit and find nothing but hot skin. Lancelot can see the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his tongue darts out whip-quick across his lips, like he’s trying to savor the last of it.

Lancelot extends his hands to him, lifts him to his feet (he’s hard, he notices, _so hard_ just from pleasuring him) and pulls him onto the bed with him, swiping at a not entirely unlovely line of spit and seed on his hairless chin. “Sometime,” he says as he lays Merlin back onto the pillows and kisses a hot, open-mouthed down his chest, “I should like to do that properly. It was as if everything was...enhanced.”

Merlin arches up into his touch, the muscles in his stomach tensing as Lancelot’s lips tease over them. “It’s a bit like doing it in the dead of the night,” Merlin says, “like only the stars are there to light the way – “

“ - and there’s only each other. The feel of our bodies moving together.” Lancelot finishes as he undoes Merlin’s pants and pushes them down his thighs, pale like fresh milk. His cock, hard and prettily flushed as it rests on his belly just begging for him to taste. _It’s only fair_ , he thinks, arching an eyebrow at Merlin and hoping he can read his thoughts like he suspects, _if you wear the blindfold as well_.


	2. Arthur/Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur/Merlin; fucking on the throne

“I suppose you think you need a throne now,” Arthur scoffs as the hall clears, raising an eyebrow when they’re alone. Just to be cheeky, Merlin teases “No, I quite think I already have one,” and sits down on Arthur’s lap, on muscular legs beneath soft fabric, warm and welcoming. The throne may be Arthur’s his right as a king, but the king is Merlin’s. His right as a sorcerer, he supposes.

Arthur is dressed formally, more difficult for Merlin to wade through layers of fabric to get his greedy fingers on hot, rigid flesh, teased to hardness by the barest brush of magic worked slowly over it throughout the course of his council’s meeting.

Arthur groans and tips his head back against the high-backed throne when Merlin’s body swallows him up, the crown tilting on already mussed hair and Merlin takes it, slides it atop his head as he rises only to fall, to take Arthur deeper. Humble though he was known, perhaps his ego has swollen a bit, what with the way Arthur had clasped their hands in front of all of his nobles and said _Merlin, I want no other man but you as the appointed Camelot_ _sorcerer_ , later in his lavish bed _Merlin, my lover, I need you, be mine always_.

Merlin still has wet dreams about that day.

“I’m the king now,” Merlin teases, “and I’ve found my throne.” Arthur huffs out “hardly” as his hands grip Merlin’s hips hard enough to bruise, guide the rock of his hips.

“Men like you were not made to be kings-” Arthur says, smug as he’d been the first day Merlin met him, insufferable. With a sharp snap of his hips his balls brush Merlin’s ass, give him all that he has to offer as he adds “-but to serve them.”

Merlin would take it as an insult if Arthur didn’t choke on a moan, if his voice wasn’t thick with desire. Merlin isn’t weak but Arthur is stronger, accustomed to moving him how he wishes as he fucks up into him, kissing the nape of his neck, his shoulders, the bit of skin beneath his ear that makes him yelp. Merlin’s hands grip the arms of the throne hard enough to indent the carvings into his palms and he kisses like a man half-possessed, all hungry and open-mouthed, wet and sloppy the way he knows he’ll be when Arthur’s done, when he’s filled him with the seed that his power seems to thrive on.


	3. Gwen/Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen/Morgana, playing dress up

“It suits you,” Morgana says, giddy when Gwen is laced into the dress. “Now let’s pretend to be princesses from neighboring kingdoms.” She whispers it like it’s a wicked game, this play-acting, presses Gwen down on the bed so her hair fans out across the pillow. _Like we’re having a sleepover_.

A sleepover, Gwen thinks. Morgana kisses desperate and demanding, kisses until she’s fucking Gwen’s mouth with her tongue the same way her fingers fuck between her legs, years of practice now.

“So wet, sweet Gwen,” she murmurs against the swell of her breast before her lips fasten around a peaked nipple, dark and full. She trails her tongue around it, curves it as she sucks it into her mouth softly between her teeth. “What our parents would do if they knew what we get up to in their absence! What a sleepover this is!” It warms Gwen’s heart to see her so fanciful, heats between her legs to see how dark her eyes are, nearly black with lust.

“Or perhaps,” she suggests as she pulls away, chest heaving and eyes alight, skirt bunched up around her waist the same way Gwen’s is. She moves away and Gwen sits up like something’s wrong, terrified, alert, like Morgana’s had a change of heart, like she might not feel well. She throws a gaze over his shoulder that’s equal parts naked desire and pure mischief, grabbing a cloak from the chair beside the bed and wrapping it around Gwen’s shoulders. Gwen knows she should feel silly, dress pushed down her shoulders with a traveling cloak clasped at her throat above bare, kiss-bitten breasts but Morgana almost _whines_ when she looks at her and she’s never felt more beautiful.

“Perhaps I’m a sorceress in the woods,” she pantomimes, sneaking around the poster of her bed before diving back into the covers next to Gwen, kissing her breathless. “And for beautiful girls, there’s only one form of payment I’ll accept.”

Morgana is beautiful when she’s having fun, more beautiful still when she tips her head back and moans, when her eyes flutter closed and her thighs shake as Gwen thumbs over her clit. When her thoughts are filled with daydreams instead of nightmares, pleasure instead of pain. “My lady,” Gwen sucks a kiss beneath her breast as Morgana clings to her, corrects _Morgana_ as her lover comes on her fingers with a soft little cry.


	4. Lancelot/Arthur/Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot/Arthur/Merlin; double penetration

“It would seem that our king wants more,” Lancelot says, something dark and dangerous in his eyes as Arthur leans back on him, thighs spread wide over his knight’s. Merlin glances down to where they’re connected, the thickness of Lancelot’s cock spreading him, opening him up, his hole greedy and dusty pink around it. Merlin’s never done what he’s asking (at least, not in the position he’s in now), never even heard Arthur suggest it and _gods_ , he wants it. Wants to see him so full he can’t focus, wants to fuck his eyes crossed with how good it is. Trailing a finger around the puffy rim makes Arthur twitch, makes a hungry sound slip from his throat that sounds like nothing but _want_.

“More here?” Merlin asks, and Arthur grits his teeth. _Yes, Merlin_ , _damn you_ , but it comes out broken, airy, his voice losing its sharpness.

Merlin slicks up his fingers and presses them against Arthur’s hole, lets the excess oil make him wet, slicker than he was already from what Lancelot had given him. He sinks them in to the tune of Arthur’s gasping moan, watches his long fingers disappear into his king beside Lancelot’s cock.

“Arthur,” Lancelot groans in his ear and it’s something special, something incredible to hear Lancelot say his name rather than _sire_ or _my lord_. “let me.” Bless him, he makes it easier on them both, reclines back against the wall and pulls Arthur flush against him, back to chest. It gives Merlin a good view of the obscene slick spread of him around cock and fingers alike and it fascinates him, leaves him awestruck by how easy it is after a while for his fingers to fuck a steady rhythm alongside Lancelot’s cock. Arthur’s clearly enjoying it, drunk on both of them but it’s _Merlin’s_ name Arthur’s moaning, Merlin that he’s practically keening for.

He’s too proud to say _please_ , but the way he looks at Merlin’s cock like he’s starving for it is enough and Lancelot soothes him, _easy_ , as he rubs Arthur’s thighs. _You can do it_.

Merlin would think it wasn’t going to work had he not done it himself. It’s no easy slide, fitting in alongside Lancelot but the way Arthur’s voice breaks is worth the almost-painful squeeze, the hot dragging friction that’s almost a shade more pain than pleasure. Merlin loves the feel of his cock against Lancelot’s, the feel of Arthur hot and impossibly tight around them both. The way his king’s cock is leading steadily onto his belly, swollen red and neglected before Merlin palms over it.

Lancelot is soothing _so good_ , _you’re doing so well_ and Arthur turns to kiss him to muffle a wanton moan and a lewd grind of his hips and Merlin breaks his rhythm on Arthur’s cock to just _stare,_ in awe of the sight before him – his two favorite men in the world so deeply connected with himself.


	5. Percival/Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival/Arthur; daddy kink

Arthur wants to be defeated. Debased, degraded in ways he’d never allow were it any other circumstance. Dominated entirely in a way only one man can.

On his hands and knees for Percival he makes quite a sight, face in the bunched-up Camelot cloak beneath his head. Aching back, sore arms, thighs that are tense from maintaining his position for too long, muscles complaining. Stretched and filled, stuffed full of his knight’s impressive cock.

_Fuck me_ , he commands, humping back and Percival smacks his ass and Arthur can tell from the low, quick moan that he likes the way it bounces and reddens under his big palm.

_Like you’re a disobedient child,_ Percival laughs thickly.

Honest, filter-less. Bedroom talk. Arthur buries his face in damp scarlet fabric, breathes in the smell of sweat that’s uniquely Percival’s as he lifts his ass in the air for an easier screw. _Fuck me,_ he orders again, lets the command hang in the air for a few moments before gasping _daddy_.

His throat feels dry as sand in the few seconds following, like he’s nervous, takes him a few moments to realize it’s rubbed raw from the way he’s moaning like he’s being paid for it, because Percival is fucking into him harder than ever, thrusting him forward so he loses his balance, growling _yeah, just like that Arthur, like I’m your daddy_.

His cock twitches every time Percival’s hand cracks down on his ass and he buries his face in his curled forearms, content to barely hold himself up as Percival fucks him almost punishingly hard, rough like he enjoys it, sometimes. Later, when Gwaine corners Percival and teases him for his lack of sexual prowess, he knows he’ll remember Percival’s fingers slipping into his slick, abused hole beside his cock, knows he’ll remember the way his balls slapped against his ass as he spanked him.


	6. Gwaine/Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine/Merlin; light bondage

“Now aren’t we naughty,” Gwaine purrs, _tsking_ at him. “Somebody really ought to tie you up, teach you a lesson.”

“What good would it do?” Merlin teased, reaching behind him to grasp the poster of Gwaine’s bed, obedient as if expecting a tie to go around them. “I don’t need hands to do magic.”

Gwaine covers Merlin’s body with his own, hot and sweaty and tense all over, _aching_ to fuck him. “You’re a cheeky little slut.”

Merlin nods like it’s a compliment, taps his fingers along the carved wood impatiently. Lips quirked into a smirk, arching until he can rub himself against Gwaine’s clothed thigh. They’re supposed to be playing, some silly game of Gwaine’s that’s meant to test willpower – his own or Merlin’s, he isn’t sure – meant to keep them at the edge of frantic, frenzied desire until the last possible moment, so Gwaine can tease him and for once (mercifully, he says) Merlin can’t tease him in turn.

But Merlin is impatient, playful.

“’ll tie you up,” Gwaine says as he looks him over, appraising. The way Merlin is completely naked under him, already fucked open and slick and rutting against Gwaine. “And you had better not use magic to worm out of it.”

Merlin lets him have his moment, lets him be in charge because it’s a bit _exhilarating,_ the way his voice goes low and quiet, calm, commanding. He wraps his lips around the word _please_ and for his pride, pretends not to notice the sound Gwaine makes in the back of his throat, the proof he isn’t as good at this as he thinks he is.

Gwaine’s hands are firm but not unkind as he lashes his wrists to the poster of his bed, as he positions his skinny legs so one is up over his shoulder and he’s rubbing the hardness of him against Merlin’s ass. He might be barred from using magic to squirm out of this, but Gwaine never said anything about not using magic to _tease_.

Gwaine groans, hips bucking of their own accord when Merlin uses his magic to curl around the base of his cock. “You bloody little _tease_ ,” he growls when their gazes meet and Merlin’s eyes are molten gold. “What did I – _fuck_ – say?”

Merlin smiles, lets the magic _really_ curl around Gwaine’s cock until he can feel the heat of him in his very soul, looks him over and mouths _fuck me_ and Gwaine can’t undo his pants fast enough, can’t get the oil slicked up the hot swollen length of him fast enough to please either of them.


	7. Arthur/Mordred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur/Mordred; semi-public sex

Percival and Gwaine leave in a flurry of playful shoves and growling stomachs and then they are alone. Mordred’s back is to him, divested of his mail and armor and when he pulls his shirt over his head to exchange it for a new one there are indents in the pale skin of his shoulder, tiny angry circles where the chain links have rubbed tender skin raw. So gentle and strong at once.

“My king,” Mordred says and Arthur realizes when Mordred looks over his shoulder (too late) that he's been staring. Quietly, cooly, his newest knight whispers “What can I do for you?”

Smoothly, Arthur says “You can pat yourself on the back for a job well done.” Then, because it seems like not enough, somehow, “You are exemplary.”

Mordred says _thank you_ and turns around, steps forward until they're so close they're sharing the same air. Hot breaths, the sharp tang of each other's salt skin overwhelming senses.

His hand is on Arthur's hip after he says it, thumb rubbing slow circles and then he's finished, it's over but just beginning all at once. Mordred looks up at him, innocent but not, young and freshly knighted but not naive. He licks his lips, flicks his tongue out once to wet them and again, slower, dragging the tip along his plush lower lip and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the armory. Arthur walks towards him, pushing him backwards until he's against a column and only then does he kiss him, deep and filthy and hungry, licking the seam of his lips demanding access and Mordred grants it, lets Arthur's weight press into him.

_I want this_ , Mordred tells him, then _I've wanted you_ as he's palming his cock through fabric, stroking him to his full potential in an alarmingly short amount of time. It's good, the way he first runs fingertips up the hard line of it and then crooks them, rubbing with short strokes of his knuckles, teasing and Arthur drags the kiss out, sucks on the boy’s tongue until he's moaning and saying quietly _please, please._

Fucking into the vice-tight heat of Mordred’s body is dizzying. Up against the wall, the force of their bodies knocking swords and axes out of their holders and clattering to the floor; Mordred around his waist with breeches undone and pushed down his legs for Arthur to thrust up into him, steady and powerful; on the armor polishing table of all places, where a single sweep of Arthur's arm clears it for Mordred’s body to be pressed down on. On the damn floor, rutting like peasants in the stables when their master’s not looking. Fast, frenzied; a hand pinning Mordred’s hands together above his head as he hoists one muscular leg over his shoulder and fucks him in earnest.

_My king, my king,_ and then, more familiar: _Arthur,_ right in his ear every time he covers the smaller body with his own, hips snapping forward. He's wanted this, he's _needed_ this, needed Mordred’s icy blue irises nearly eclipsed by blown pupils, needed to feel his pulse flutter in his wrist as he fists sword calloused fingers around it. Needed Mordred, needed to _fuck him_ , a right proper welcome to the round table, a more tangible _thank you_ for everything he's done so far.


End file.
